


How We Came To Be

by seventitas



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-09
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-14 01:16:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7993276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventitas/pseuds/seventitas





	1. How We Met

Great love stories never start with “I met him at a club.” When you read all the literary masterpieces throughout history, you seldom encounter a first meeting between two lovers that involved heavy amounts of vodka. To be fair though, Romeo and Juliet met at a party. So did Jay Gatsby and Daisy Buchanan. However, these two love stories ended pretty badly. But that’s not my point. I, personally, like to think our first meeting was destined to turn out the way it did. The red string theory proved itself to be true that night, when I drank a little too much and he was fresh out of heartbreak. Somehow, in a dark, crowded and musty place, we wound up finding each other.

They say there’s only 6 degrees of separation between two strangers. Perhaps that night, when I managed to get myself locked in the men’s bathroom, the cosmos wanted to slim down those degrees so I can humiliate myself in front of this handsome yet forlorn stranger in the dingy bathroom of a club. Thanks, universe.

I had just finished throwing up. I had no idea I had locked the door until there were bursts of angry knocks and banging from the other side. I was totally out of it - I was on the floor, wriggling and struggling to walk on hind legs like a newborn deer. No one else was there to help me get up. Or so I thought.

“Did you lock the door?” he came out from one of the cubicles.  
I couldn’t quite see him. My vision was impaired that even my beer goggles weren’t working.  
“I don’t know.” I managed to slur.

I was beginning to drift into unconsciousness. I felt my eyelids close themselves. Where were my friends? How would I get home? Am I ever going to get home? I had all these concerns in the back of my mind but I was too inebriated to answer them. I was all but ready to pass out.

“I can’t get the door open. It’s stuck.” I heard him say.  
The banging from the other side got louder.  
“It’s stuck! The door is stuck! Call someone.” He yelled.

A few moments later, I felt a warm hand on my arm. “You okay?” He asked.  
His voice was melting honey.

Normally I should panic. A stranger touching a drunk, unconscious girl in a deserted bathroom? Red alarm. But I didn’t feel fear. In fact, I think I smiled. “Take me home” was what I managed to say.

Then I felt strong arms around me. If this guy was trying to take advantage of me, I wouldn’t have been able to fight back. But he wasn’t taking advantage of me. He sat me up and brushed my hair away from my face. I probably had a trace of vomit on my mouth for all I knew.

“Do you have anyone with you here? Friends?” he asked.  
I shrugged. I couldn’t remember where they were. They probably thought I had left while I was there locked up in the bathroom.

Just then, the door burst open and agitated, drunk customers flooded in. The loud music blaring from outside seeped in. The thick smell of cigarettes wafted. I wanted to throw up again. Before I could, the stranger lifted me up with little to no effort and took me outside.

I wish I could tell you in detail what had transpired after he rescued me from the puke-infested toilet dungeons of that club; how the male protagonist of this story heroically takes the damsel in distress home or how the knight in shining armor took care of an irresponsible, reckless girl. But everything was a haze. All I know is I’ve been muttering “I want to go home” over and over again but what stuck in my memory until now is his reassuring voice that kept saying “You are home.”

In hindsight, I think in his arms, I was home.


	2. How We Met

He was heartbroken. He made that very clear from the moment we started to engage in proper conversation after my drunken stint. I told him I was an English tutor and that I didn’t have any expertise on the subject of heartbreak and despair. I could only offer him tips on spelling and grammar. He laughed and said he liked talking to me because as a tutor, I knew how to be patient. Of course, I lent him an ear. After all, he saved me from potential harm. We became instant friends, him and I.

Over countless cups of coffee and orders of toast, he ranted about almost everything. Sometimes it would be good stories. Other times, it was about the girl. And how I hated it when he talked about her. His eyes change. His voice falters as if speaking about a past horror. The way he sounds changes as well; he becomes withdrawn and rigid. As if he’s holding back a monster that he’s caging within. But he was, in the mildest way possible, a walking and breathing ray of sunshine. Whenever he called me up or texted me it was the brightest part of my day. There was always something new about him every day and I never got tired of his ramblings.

He introduced me to his 12 friends. Yes, 12. He lived with all of them in this small space. My first meeting with them was a ruckus and in a matter of hours I was already a part of their group. Though I couldn’t quite stand the loudness and rowdiness of 13 young guys, I developed an odd sort of love for them. They were endearing in their own unique ways. They all reminded me of students I had taught in the past…except one.

Him.

I wasn’t attracted to him as much as I was physically attracted to his goodwill and demeanor. He was younger than me and I had never been attracted to younger men in my life. Maybe it had been because he saved me that night. Or maybe it was his story that inclined me to him. Nevertheless, it never crossed my mind to look at him non-platonically. I told myself that even if I developed any feelings for him, it would be far-fetched for it to be reciprocated. We were better off as friends.

But the world isn’t black and white. A guy and a girl can’t be just close friends for a long time without tension disrupting them. It’s a Freudian thing. In the movie When Harry Met Sally, Billy Crystal’s character had a theory that it’s impossible for a guy and a girl to be just friends. One way or another, someone falls in love. And then friendships are ruined. At some point, I had to disagree. I have tons of guy friends that I never fell for and vice versa.

However.

There were countless times when I felt that said tension between us. He would put his arm around me. Or put his face insanely close to mine when he would ask me something. One time, he put his hand on my thigh as he was driving as he asked me how my day was. I chalked it up to him being just a touchy person in general except that he would retract and I could tell he instantly regrets his actions. Personally, I had no problem with it. I never gave his gestures any meaning; I wasn’t that kind of girl. It was the electricity I felt whenever he touched me. I know this sounds greasy and cliché but something happens in my stomach whenever he touched me. I’ve gotten used to his touchiness but never the feeling it gave. It felt as if there was always something more to his touch. Like it can go further. Like it was ready to explore me.

But still. I swatted the thought away. He was attractive and that was the only reason why I felt what I did.

“Do you write songs thinking about her?” I asked one day, as we sat in silence in our favorite cafe.

He sipped his cappuccino quietly, his eyes peering over the rim of his cup. I like to bring her up from time to time just to see how he was dealing with it. I wanted to see progress. I wanted him to talk about her without sounding like a dying person.

“All my lyrics are about her.” he replied curtly.  
“How long has it been? It’s been almost a year.” I reminded him.  
He pursed his lips. “I wish it was easy to forget.” he said.

I understood him. I’ve had my fair share of heartbreaks myself. He was taking his pretty hard because he was still young. And any form of heartbreak at his age is devastating. As a man, his first break-up will either make him or break him.

“I wish I could just like, date, you know? And forget her.” he laughed, and stared out the window, trying to avert his eyes from me. He liked to do that whenever he was letting out his feelings.  
“You can’t just use a poor girl just so you can forget her.” I told him.  
I cupped my face with my hands, resting my elbow on the arm of the chair. I leaned back, so I could see how he would react.  
“I know that. That’s why I never asked you out.” he pointed out as-a-matter-of-factly.  
“Don’t get cocky; what makes you think I’d say yes to you?” I joked.  
He scoffed and took another sip from his coffee.  
“How could you refuse me?” he did a semi-aegyo that always annoyed the shit out of me.  
I cocked an eyebrow at him. “Try me.”

He got up from his chair and got on one knee in front of me. In an instant, I started to panic. I didn’t think he would actually do it. I looked around to see if anyone was looking at us. The place was kind of packed.

“PLEASE ACCEPT MY LOVE FOR Y—“ He started a declaration of some sort but my hand was fast enough to cover his mouth.  
“Get up this isn’t funny.” I hissed at him, smiling at the other customers.  
He held my hand in his palms, completely disregarding my humiliation.  
“Take back what you said.” he grinned, stroking my hand.  
“What?”  
“Say you can’t refuse someone like me.”  
“Get. Up.”  
“I’ll start singing.”  
“Ican’trefusesomeonelikeyou.”

He guffawed, slapping my back as he got up and went back to his seat. I pierced daggers at him with my eyes while he sipped his coffee casually. For a moment, I felt relieved that he’s able to deflect the subject of his ex-girlfriend by turning it into a joke. But I could see there was still a trace of sadness in his eyes. My agitation faded and turned into sympathy real quick. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than happiness for my friend. Even if it meant embarrassing me.

We had a fight once. It wasn’t exactly a fight as it was an exchange of hurtful truths. We were in his car and we had just dropped off his members somewhere. I wanted to take a cab home but he insisted on driving me. We had gone drinking, and we were a bit tipsy. It was the first time I found out that when he drinks, his nerves are on edge. He gets a little…irate.

“You don’t have to drive me, you’re a little drunk. Get yourself home.” I said, but I was buckling my seatbelt anyway.  
“I’ll be fine.”  
“It’s out of the way. You can drop me off the subway.”  
“No.”

His voice was firm. It put me off because he was in no position to do this. He talked like he had control over me. Like I can’t take care of myself. I simply didn’t want him getting out of his way for me when he’s been drinking. I took the subway all the time and he knew this.

“I’m not your girlfriend.” I said quietly.  
“Yeah you’re nothing like her.” he hissed.

For a few seconds, I didn’t really know what to say to that. Was it meant as an insult or was he just merely stating a fact? Either way I didn’t like how he was talking to me and I wanted to get away from him before things got worse.

“Stop the car. I’m getting out.” I told him.  
“No.”  
“Stop the car or I’m getting out while it’s moving. I swear I’ll do it.”  
He scoffed. Immediately I unbuckled my seatbelt and unlocked my door.  
“Hey!” He yelled and abruptly swerved the car to the side of the road.  
I got out, huffing as I slammed the door shut.  
“Oh and you’re gonna walk your way home?” he asked through the window as I began walking.  
“Just go home. We’ll forget this in the morning.” I said without looking at him.  
He moved the car, following me.  
“You can’t take care of yourself, you’re a helpless drunk.” he shouted.  
“I don’t need your help, get over yourself.” I spat, speeding up my walk.

He stopped the car and quickly got out. He sprinted after me and grabbed my wrist.  
“Why are you so stubborn?” he asked irritatedly.  
I whipped around and pulled my hand back from his grip. I was tired and sleepy and I didn’t want to deal with this. I just wanted a fun night drinking with friends and I hated that it had to take on a negative turn because of him.  
“You’re such an asshole. Maybe that’s why she left you.” I growled.  
He exhaled, as if out of whiplash. “Yeah you’re right. I guess I’m an asshole.”

I looked away for a moment, my mind gathering all the words I wanted to say to him. Not hurtful words but words that he needed to hear. Words that would help him snap out of himself. That’s what friends do, right? Friends slap the truth in your face. No sugarcoating. No enabling. Just cold hard truth.

“I care about you. I really do. But you need to stop wanting control over everything. You want her to want you back but she won’t. You want her to still think about you but she already loves someone else. You want her to come back into your life so much that you’re starting to treat me like I’m her substitute. You need to let go.”

He was staring at me, his cheeks flushed from the liquor. And probably from the cold. We were both standing in the open street, icy gusts of wind blowing past us. I walked closer to him and put his face between my hands.

“You need to let go. Accept that you had no control over what happened. That you have no control over her decision. Stop gripping on something you have no control over.” I said it more gently this time, seeing that tears were already forming in his eyes. At that moment, he was a child in my eyes. The child that he really was. There was a longing for comfort and acceptance, and I knew that he found it in me. I was his voice of reason.  
“I…I just miss her so much.” he uttered under his breath, a small tear running down his cheek.

A strange and ugly feeling crept from inside me. I had no idea where it came from, but I know what triggered it. It was a sickening sensation, rising from my stomach to my chest. Like hot, molten lava of disappointment and rejection. It was odd that out of the blue, I felt it. My instincts wanted me to get rid of it as soon as possible but I didn’t know how. I let go of him and stepped back. I no longer wanted to touch him.

“Go home. We’ll forget this in the morning.” I said to him in a final tone, before forcing a smile.  
I turned my back to him and walked away.

It’s ironic how I urged him to face his reality when I couldn’t even face mine. As I trudged my way back home that night, I started acknowledging that ugly feeling I felt before I left. I knew I was already having feelings for him but I refused to accept it. I convinced myself that it was only sympathy and pity in the guise of love. That I only felt sorry for him. That it was only my urge to comfort him. It wasn’t real, it was some pseudo feeling. But for good measure, I decided to avoid him for a while. For the sake of the friendship.

Our friendship.


	3. How We Stopped Being Friends

It’s amazing how strong will works. For a few weeks, I managed to avoid him. I made sure we slowly lost touch. I didn’t outright stop answering his texts and invitations. I did it gradually, little by little, until I completely ignored him. He was a busy person, and I knew he didn’t have time running around chasing after friends who cut contact with him. He had more important things to take care of. It’s not that I fell for him already. It’s that I wanted to cut ties before it came to that. I didn’t want to risk it. Maybe when I find someone I like, I’ll be comfortable being with him again, I thought one day. So I began dating again.

A friend introduced me to someone okay. He was good-looking, but not exactly my type. Still, I wasn’t in the position to be picky. I gave myself a chance to get to know him and turns out, our personalities match. It’s only been like three dates, I didn’t want to rush into things. I was in no hurry. Grown women do not rush, I always say. And it’s not like I was desperate for a relationship. I looked at dating as a hobby. As long as I kept it at a hobby-level, it wouldn’t affect my life too much.

He was a swimming coach and owned a cute little hole in the wall cafe. He was a barista when he felt like it and was taking his graduate studies on business management. He was the type you’d bring home to your parents. But like I said, I wasn’t that impressed yet.

The Seventeen kids have been texting from time to time, asking where I was and whatnot. Of course, I don’t really text back. The last time I talked to them was when I told Seungkwan I was busy with work. I knew he didn’t believe me for one second.

Our fourth date was nearing its end as he drove me home from the movies. He was the conservative type. He even opens doors for me and drapes his large coat over my shoulders so I won’t catch a cold. I’ve been with a few guys like this one. Nothing’s new.

“I’ll see you on Saturday then.” he smiled.  
“Yeah, see you.” I said in return, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.  
I saw him quickly glancing down my shirt afterwards. Conservative.  
“Bye.” I waved him off, as he got back in his Audi.  
I watched him speed off, waving goodbye as the car disappears just like they do in movies.

I smiled in content. This was nice after all. I thought maybe by our next date we could take it to the next level and make out. I wasn’t super attracted to him but then again, sexual compatibility is an important deciding factor in that.

Just then, my phone rang. He has this habit of calling right away after our date. Kind of needy if you ask me. But I held up my phone and saw that it wasn’t him. I stared at the number.

It’s been a while since he last called.

I even went as far to erasing his number from my contacts for good measure. I was going to hit decline but something in my gut told me not to. That it was important. After at least 6 rings, I answered it.

“Hello.” I said meekly. I was standing as stiff as a board outside my building.  
“Wow you really are busy these days.” he greeted cheerfully, as if it hasn’t been weeks since we last spoke.  
“Sorry.”  
“Sorry? That’s all?” he laughed.  
That was weird. His laugh was pretty loud.  
“Yeah I’ll try to find time this week.” I said like that wasn’t the 50th time I’ve said that line to him.

There was silence for a good minute. I thought the line had cut off. I asked him if he was still there.  
“I’m here.” his crisp, clear voice shook the still air.

And true to his word, he was. Out from the corner of my eye, he appeared like some sort of character out of a manga. He was wearing a hoodie with one hand holding his phone and the other in his pocket.

“Have you been watching me?” I asked, slightly terrified by the fact that he was now standing right in front of me.  
“That depends. Have you been avoiding me?” he asked back.  
“No.”  
“You’re a really bad liar, noona.”  
“What do you want?”  
“Come on.”

He put his arm around me so casually and started walking to who knows where. Eventually, we stopped at this little tea shop just around the corner. It was a quiet, tiny place where I know he could put me in the hot seat and ask me 3rd degree questions.

We sat across each other at a tiny round table, just like old times. The lighting was dim but not dim enough for me not to appreciate his face. It dawned on me how much I missed seeing that face. It felt like years have passed since I last saw it.

Chamomile tea for him, jasmine tea for me. Two tiny cups sat between our gap and yet the distance we felt was huge and gaping. I wondered if I could lie my way out of this situation - make up an excuse that some other friend had an emergency and I would pretend to call someone…something like that.

“So. When were you going to tell me that you were seeing someone?” he asked expectantly.  
“I don’t think it’s any of your business to be honest.”  
He chuckled. “Okay then. Why were you avoiding me?”  
“I’m not, I’m just…I have a life too. That’s all.”  
“Can I meet him?”  
“Absolutely not.”  
“I want to meet him.”  
“Do you really want to pick a fight right now?”

I stood up and started to leave but he held my hand and his eyes pleaded for me to sit back down. Reluctantly, I did as he said. There was just something in him that night that convinced me to. He held on to my hand even after I had sat back down.

He fidgeted a little in his seat before looking down, staring at his steeping tea. From where I was sitting I could see his eyelashes were long and dainty. I fought the urge to stare at them but he continued to hang his head low.

“I know this seems selfish but I don’t want you avoiding me like this.” he spoke up.

I had to give myself time to react. Except, I didn’t exactly know how to. He was playing with my fingers, blatantly trying to avoid facing me. What did he want from me?

“I feel like we’ve both been suppressing feelings.” he continued.  
I jolted my head, like a deer caught in headlights.  
“I feel like I’ve been holding in my past feelings and you’re fed up with it. And I guess, after we fought, you made me realize that I really just need to let it out and let it all go.” he continued.

He seems to think I’ve been keeping my feelings of annoyance from him. Internally, I breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment there I thought he was onto me.

“Why don’t we release some stress?” he suggested.

Later that night, we found ourselves in a noraebang - just the two of us. We were wilding out in the room like teenagers on a high. We screamed and sang until our throats started to hurt. He was banging the tambourine so hard I think he broke it. We let loose and just like that, I forgot all about the tension between us. After probably about two straight hours of rock, trot and dance songs, I randomly picked a ballad from the machine. 그여자 (That Woman) by Baek Ji Young.

It wasn’t my intention to bring the mood down. But when I started singing it, I didn’t realize I was feeling it a little too much that tears started welling up. He was quiet and still the whole time and I didn’t really pay any attention to him. All I cared about was the song and how much I wanted to sing it. Half the time I had my eyes closed, not having the need to read the screen. I knew the words by heart.

And I guess that’s where it all came from - the heart.

As soon as I opened my eyes, I felt a few hot tears roll down my cheeks. He was now standing right in front of me, staring in either confusion or concern. He took the mic from my hand and put it away. I didn’t understand why the tears still kept coming. It was out of my control by now. He wiped my tears away using his thumbs. My eyesight was now blurred and warped from the droplets of tears on my eyelashes and he wiped those away too; ever so gently. I’m sure he didn’t assume that song was about him. Because that wasn’t what I intended at all. I had no hidden agenda. Maybe it was all my subconscious’ doing.

His face was so close to mine as he held my face. I could see he had faint, tiny freckles along the bridge of his nose. They were inconspicuous from afar, but centimeters away from him, they were evident. He smelled a mix of perfume, sweat and chamomile. I was getting lightheaded; he was too close. I broke away from his hold and looked away.

“I’m okay.” I told him, a tinge of embarrassment in my voice. He probably thought I had lost my damn mind.  
“Hold on.” he said, pulling me back.

He stared into my eyes as if he saw something peculiar; almost as if he discovered something that wasn’t there before. He was moving closer and closer I had to take a few tiny steps back. Before I could ask him what was going on, he crashed his lips into mine. It all happened too fast that for a nanosecond I had no idea what he was doing. Only when I felt his tongue slide in me that it registered that he was kissing me. My reflex reaction was to kiss him back. And I did. Full force. He tasted just as I had imagined. Warm, sweet and wet. Seconds into the kiss, he began pushing himself towards me until I could feel the wall against my back. With both hands, he held the sides of my neck, his hands traveling up behind my ears and gripping my hair while he whispered - no - breathed my name into my mouth as if he’d been thirsty for too long and I was his glass of drink.

Then a wave of realization washed over me. What were we doing? This shouldn’t be happening. This was the one thing I’ve been avoiding to happen and yet I found myself here. We were friends. We were nothing more. We can’t be anything more. I slowly broke off from his lips and put my palms against his chest, signaling him to stop.

“We shouldn’t do this.” I whispered, unable to look him in the eye. He was staring at me longingly, waiting for me to explain why I had stopped the best thing that’s happened between us so far. But I couldn’t say anything except “Come on, let’s go home.”

During the quiet ride home, I watched the sleepy, empty streets of Hongdae. The streetlights were neon in the night. I rolled down the window and let the wind caress my hair and face. I needed the fresh night air. Even though my mind was clear and sound, I felt like I did the wrong decisions that night. We crossed over a line that we both knew we shouldn’t. And even if we pretended it didn’t happen, it was going to haunt us, clawing from the back of our minds. Someone New by Banks was playing on the radio as we ran past traffic lights. As if the atmosphere wasn’t melancholic enough.

“Those weeks when you avoided me, I felt like there was this big hole. Like you know how you’re in a room you’ve always been in but there was just something missing and you don’t know what it is and it drives you crazy? That’s how it felt like not having you around.” he explained to me later on.

I never asked him for an explanation why he had kissed me. But he gave it to me anyway.

“And I think I found that missing thing when I saw you crying. Something in my head just clicked and I knew I had to let you know.”  
“Let me know what?”  
“That I need you.”  
At that time I never forgot the fact that I was dating someone else. Not to mention the fact that just a few weeks ago, he admitted that he still missed her. 

“Remember when I told you don’t use a poor girl to forget her? Don’t let me be that poor girl.” I said.  
“I would never do that to you.” And there was resolute in his voice.

But you know how people sometimes don’t know what they’re capable of? Like unintentionally breaking a promise and hurting someone?

I hope it never has to happen to anyone.


	4. How It Began

I remember feeling inadequate at the start of our relationship. I was much older than him so I felt that my spark and energy didn’t match his. He was still full of vigor and enthusiasm, while I on the other hand, already put out that fire in me. He was still so eager to drink like there was no tomorrow. He had more circles of friends. He was more active. Even his outlook in life is too optimistic and too positive; he still hasn’t faced enough disappointments and rejections to mellow down his idealistic approach. He was a dreamer and I was a realist. The good thing was we balanced each other out. When he soared too close to the sun, I had to pull him down. When I refused to get off the ground, he lifted me up.

I don’t exactly remember how we began. But I know it didn’t quite start right after that kiss. I was extremely reluctant to be involved with him. But he was persistent and stubborn. What I do remember is when I finally let my guard down. It was that time when he came into my apartment late one night. I had just fed him dinner and he was tired from a previous schedule. He refused to go to his dorm because apparently, some of his staff slept over and it was crowded and congested. He looked so exhausted; I didn’t have the heart to send him away.

I cleared the table and started washing the dishes as he watched me, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Noona.” he called.  
I looked at him. He smiled and shook his head, as if to say “Nothing, just felt like annoying you.“  
“If you’re going to go back, go now. It’s late.” I said.  
“I will.” he said, but he took a step closer to where I was.  
“I mean it.” I warned him as I rinsed my hands. Suddenly, I could feel my cheeks flush.  
“Yeah I hear you.” he smiled, taking another step.  
I dried my hands on a towel and put the dishes back in their rack. I turn around and see he’s right behind me  
“Go. Home.” I jumped back, almost having a mini heart attack.  
He pulled me gently by the waist and kissed me lightly on the lips. “I will.”  
I pushed him backwards, hoping he would reach the door but he was too strong and he was trying to block me with his lips.  
It was useless. In the end, I gave in and before I knew it, he pressed me against the wall and kissed down my neck.  
“You have to go.” I said, as I slid off his shirt.  
“I will.” he mumbled, as he unbuttoned mine.  
“You can’t stay.” I whispered, throwing his belt on the floor.  
“I won’t.” he gasped in between kisses and unhooking my bra.  
“You should go.” I whimpered as he traced his lips on my collarbone.  
“I’m leaving.” he heaved, lifting me up and wrapping my legs around his waist.

I couldn’t care less anymore. I didn’t care that our clothes were on the floor. I didn’t care that we were both buck naked in the kitchen, writhing against each other on the wall. I knew what I was doing, and he knew too. We were both adults. Adults that have completely lost control. There was something about rules and limitations that were so tempting to break. Just like our own rule about friendship. We set a line but the more we thought about it, the more we wanted to cross it. As we transferred to the bedroom, it came to my attention that we were never really just friends. There was always something waiting to happen between us. It’s just that there was never a right time in the past to confront it. I could tell that he’s been waiting for the perfect time to do this by the way his hips thrusted and gyrated on top of me; by the way he traced the long of my back with his lips after he single-handedly flipped me over. He exerted so much strength that I had to slow him down, holding the small of his back to guide his pace. He’d put his forehead against mine and smile at me as if he’s finally unwrapped a present he was never allowed to open. I had to stop myself from unconsciously closing my eyes in ecstasy because I wanted to maintain the occasional eye contact he was doing. When we both finished, he released a guttural, almost inaudible groan into my neck. Simultaneously, I dug my nails into his back. My wrists throbbed - I hadn’t noticed he had pinned me down so hard. But I didn’t care. The only throbbing I cared about was the one against my chest - I could feel his violent palpitations and his muscles relaxing on top of me.

It was dark in my room. I could only hear his steady breathing by my nape. I could feel his broad nakedness encasing me like a cocoon. I couldn’t go back to sleep; not when all I could think about was how we would treat each other from now on. Were we officially together? Were we still friends? Where do we go from here? I didn’t like the idea of friends with benefits. But I wasn’t so sure being official was such a good idea either. I still doubted if his feelings for me were real. I couldn’t quite gauge it and I didn’t trust him enough just yet. I shifted in my position, careful not to wake him up. I looked at his face, skeptical if he was serious with this whole thing or not. Before I drifted to sleep, I felt him move beside me before giving me a light kiss on my forehead.

That’s when I knew I had to take a leap of faith.

If this story were a movie, this part would be a good opportunity to place a time lapse sequence of our development. A montage of all the fluff that usually goes on in the beginning of relationships. We were still friends, mind you. We treated each other like how we always treated each other. It’s just that this time, there was an extra connection. But there was always caution in the back of mind; I trusted him, but I was always on the lookout for signs of him being unfaithful.

“Can I ask you something and promise you’ll tell me the truth?” I asked him as I massaged his head with shampoo. We were simmering in hot foamy water in my bathtub. He enjoyed hot baths with colorful bath bombs.  
“What?” he said, sounding almost half asleep. He liked head massages more than anything.  
“Do you…still think about her?” I bit my lip as soon as I asked it.  
“Her?”  
“You know.”  
He turned around to face me, soapy bubbles on his head.  
“Honestly?” he asked.  
“Honestly.” I nodded.  
“Honestly, no. I have you.” he said with a hint of aegyo. He took a sponge and beckoned me to turn my back to him.

For a few moments of silence, I let him scrub my back and as he did, I thought about the possibility of him getting back with her. Just imagining it sent painful stings to my heart. It was now becoming one of my worst fears.

“What if she came back? One day? What would you do then?” I asked curiously.

He stopped scrubbing my back and put the sponge back. He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to him. I felt a gentle nuzzle on my neck. I leaned my head back and rested it on his bare chest.

“Are you scared that I’ll leave you for her?” he asked, half chuckling.  
“It’s not funny. It could happen.”  
“I wouldn’t do that to you. What do you take me for?”

If I prolong the topic, he would get annoyed. Guys in general didn’t like talking about past and previous relationships. It riles them up and makes them anxious. I decided to drop the subject. If I desperately wanted honest answers, I’d get him drunk. But I wasn’t at that stage yet. We haven’t even exchanged I love you’s. And I had a rule where if there hasn’t been an exchange of commitment, I won’t invest in it. I mentally prepared myself for a short-lived relationship.

But he was different. Different from the rest. He exuded more strength than the older men I’ve been with. He knew how to probe my personality; he knew what ticked me off and what turned me on. He spoiled me to no end. He knew and embraced a side of me that I refused to show to other people. This was new and unchartered territory to me. And it was hard for me not to invest in this relationship. He gave me so much to hold on to. So much to hope for. That alone put me in big trouble.

But it was three months into our relationship that I finally felt that sense of relief. We were in his dorm, while the rest of the members were away. We had a fight the previous night, and I’ve been mulling over whether I should wait for this to blow over or get out while I still could. I couldn’t read him sometimes. He was hot and cold and that bothered me so much. I didn’t want to be in a relationship where the feeling I had 50% of the time was anxiety. Is he going to cheat? Does he really love me or does he just need me? How long did we have before this all turns into a mess? I was just not cut out for that kind of headache.

“I don’t get you sometimes. And honestly I’m tired of trying to get you. I’m sick of keeping up with your mood swings and I’m a girl.” I ranted.  
“You get tired? You get tired? I’m the one that has to constantly assure you that I’m not going anywhere, that I’m not lying. Do you know how much your paranoia drives me insane?”  
“I wouldn’t get riled up without reason. From the very beginning, everything felt so tentative and fragile. Everything’s so uncertain. I feel like I’m trying to find my way in the dark.”  
“What do you want me to do? What else can I offer? What else do you want from me?”

I felt tears wet my cheeks in an instant. I haven’t cried like this in a while. I heaved heavily, because I was finally letting everything out. I’ve been keeping it all in and tonight, it came out.

“This was a bad idea. Maybe we should just end it here.” I said in an almost-whisper and headed for the door.

Before I could even open it mid-way, he swooped in fast enough to close and block it.

I tried to get him away from the door but he wouldn’t budge. His eyes fixated on me, intense and fiery.

“Do you know why I seem confused? Because I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes I did before.” He spoke, raising his voice now. “I still don’t know how this works. I’m just as lost as you are. I’m sorry I’m not perfect and I’m sorry that you’re tired of my mood swings. But I am honestly just trying to figure out how to keep you. Because I don’t want to lose you again. Maybe I’m not doing a good job at it and you drive me insane sometimes but I love you and I just want to be able to prove it to you.”

There it was. It didn’t really matter to me whether he said it out loud or not. Sometimes, words are just words. And you can’t just rely on words alone. But to be quite frank, during that time, hearing it from him like that made everything a whole lot better. But I was still tired and exhausted from his ups and downs. I wanted a break. Even his reassuring words didn’t guarantee that this was all going to be worth it. I don’t like being called paranoid when I had every valid reason to doubt this entire love affair. I marched towards the door, determined that he would let me through this time. But he deflected all my attempts at opening the door.

“If you walk out this door we’re through.” he threatened.  
“Fine.”  
He stood his ground, unmoving; locking his gaze at me as if I might vanish into thin air.  
“You’re not going anywhere.” he droned, with a deadpan stare.  
So I stared him down.

I was just about to slap him when he grabbed my face and kissed me roughly. I almost tumbled backwards from the force. I tried to push him away, pounding at his chest but before I knew it, I was slowly melting under his touch. We stumbled violently towards the bottom of someone’s bunk bed. It was probably Seokmin’s. I was still somehow trying to fight him off, though I didn’t know why, seeing as he was already practically ripping our clothes off and I was letting him. His large hand grabbed my thigh with so much brute I dug my fingernails onto his back in return. I scratched at his neck but that didn’t really stop him from rocking me back and forth. I arched my back and rose to kiss him and he returned the favor; but not before getting a palm-full of my hair and slightly pulling it. It was a good thing we were alone in the entire flat. The noises we made were inhuman. The bunk bed creaked so much it sounded like it was on the brink of breaking. I’ve never had angry sex like this before. It was a cross between break-up and make-up sex which is why I forgot all about the exhaustion I was ranting about just moments ago. The only exhaustion I felt now was when I collapsed on top of him, heaving like I’ve just finished a marathon. I felt bad for Seokmin. He was going to sleep in his bed that night, not knowing what unspeakable things had happened on it.

He had a way for making things go his way. He still harbored that need for control albeit it was tamer now. I wasn’t submissive; it wasn’t like that. There were more times when I was the one in command. But sometimes, he had a domineering effect that even older men I’ve been with didn’t have. For someone so young, he knew how to keep a grown woman at his fingertips. And in return, I gave him everything that no girls his age could ever give him. He worshipped me in the bedroom and I treated him like a king outside of it.

I was his weakness. He was my strength.


	5. How It Took A Turn

I remember everything - how it began, where it spiraled down, what words were said. It’s funny how people are quick to romanticize the good but forget the bad. I remember the bad more vividly than the good. The good gives me so much to hold on to, but it’s the bad that gives me so much to remember.

There was a storm that day. I was stuck in my apartment, electricity cut off and everything. I wasn’t planning on going anywhere that time; it was just impossible. In the darkness, my phone lit up and rang. It was Seungkwan. He’s never called me before unless it was to invite me to drink with them. It was 4pm in the afternoon. Confused, I picked it up.

“Seungkwan?”  
“Noona. Do you think you can come over to the dorm?”  
I could hear panic in his voice. I was immediately alarmed.  
“Why? What’s going on?”  
“He’s…trashed the whole place and locked himself in the bathroom. The managers can’t even get him to come out. We’re worried.”  
I stood up. What did he mean? What happened?  
“Is he okay? What happened?” I frantically asked.  
“He’s drunk and I don’t know what happened he started throwing things around and crying. He might listen to you. He told us not to break down the door but we’re worried. You might convince him. Please.”

Without much of a goodbye, I rushed out the door and into the raging storm. As confused and clueless as I was, I knew I had to be there. The last time I saw him was the other day and we were alright. He was his normal self. We even had sex in his car before he dropped me home. What had happened? It was scaring me to death. Even as I drove through the violent storm, it was him that scared me to death. I don’t know how I got there so fast but I was soaked to the bone. I arrived at their door making a puddle on the floor. As soon as Myungho opened the door, I could see the damage. Glass, shoes, broken plates, beer bottles and cans were everywhere. I tiptoed through it all. Whatever it is that caused this chaos, it was something serious. The living room was crowded but none of them looked as panicked as I was.

“What happened?” I asked to no one in particular for the hundredth time.  
Some were cleaning up the mess. I spotted tiny drops of blood on the floor.  
“He’s in there.” one of the managers said, pointing at the bathroom door. “He probably injured himself while he was throwing a tantrum. We’re this close to calling the police if he doesn’t open the door.”

I turned to the members, desperate for answers. I approached Seungkwan. He was the only one who could look me in the eye. I didn’t know why the rest of them avoided me. I was clearly on the brink of a nervous breakdown.

“Seungkwan. Tell me.” I pleaded.  
He exhaled deeply, as if he’s given up. He took one look at the others, letting them know that only he had the balls to face me.  
“He found out yesterday. This came in the company mail.” he replied, and handed me what looked like a wedding invitation.  
I saw her name. It was her’s. His ex-girlfriend was getting married.

I felt like a blunt force hit the side of my head. Suddenly, my vision was swimming in black. My blood started to run cold and numbness started creeping in from my legs. I stared at the dainty thing while I mentally pieced all the sequence of events together. I was locked in a stupor for a while, trying to make sense of all this. But Seungkwan snapped me out it almost instantly.

“We had no choice but to call you. I know it’s selfish but he’ll listen to you. He loves you.” he begged.  
He loves you seemed like a joke to my ears now. But I was there and I had to somehow do something about this.  
I nodded and walked to the bathroom door, Seungkwan by my side. He knocked on the door.  
“Hyung. You left us with no choice.” he said and signaled me to talk.  
I gently knocked on the door. “It’s me.”  
I heard shuffling from inside. At least I know he was alive in there.  
“Please come out.” I whimpered.

I started crying. I didn’t feel the tears as I was still soaking wet from the rain. Was I crying because I was concerned or because one of my worst fears has finally come true? It was probably both.

Suddenly, the door flew open and he whipped past me, coming at Seungkwan. He held him by the collar of his shirt. The boys immediately ran to them and intercepted.

“Why did you get her into this? Why did you call her?” he yelled, as the boys tried to pull him off from a terrified Seungkwan.

I got in between them as well and tried to pull him aside. He was clearly appalled that they had gotten me involved with his meltdown over his ex. Truthfully, I wish I hadn’t come. Had I known this was the reason he was acting out, I wouldn’t have shown my face to him. But I took notice of the blood dripping from his fingers. He was injured. And my initial instinct was to fix it. Amidst this ugly mess, it was my only concern at the moment. He let go of Seungkwan and I practically dragged him to his room and locked the door. I could hear the boys running behind.

He sat and slumped on one of the beds. He looked absolutely horrible. He was wet, bloody and seemed like he hasn’t slept in two days. He rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands together. Blood. I took out some tissue from my bag. I knelt down in front of him, taking his hand and looking at the damage. There were minor and small cuts on his hand, probably from shards of broken glass. I put the tissue on it and applied pressure. I rummaged for the band-aids in my bag. I probably only had two left but at least I could stop the bleeding. He noticed I had been crying, as he extended his good hand and wiped my eye. I ignored it and carefully placed a band-aid on one cut.

As I was opening the second band-aid, I spoke. “You weren’t completely honest with me.” I said quietly.  
He didn’t respond but he was watching me intently. I turned his hand over and slowly put a band-air over another cut.  
“I think I deserve the truth. And I want you to look me in the eye and give it. Understood?” I went on, taking the bloody tissue and preparing a new clean one. I neatly folded it and put it on his palm. The bleeding was less now. Still no answer. I didn’t care. I applied pressure on his hand and looked him in the eye.  
“Do you still love her?” I asked, though by now the answer was quite obvious and I was just making a fool out of myself at this point.

His eyes hesitated for a moment but he knew that I knew. It was poor form to lie now. He raised his hand, attempting to hold my face but I gently put it away. I waited, my eyes probing his. And then, he finally nodded.

And even though I expected that nod, it felt like splinters of glass pierced my heart. The pain wasn’t even close to that of his bloody hand. I nodded back at him, as if I understood…but I was choking back tears. My legs were now numb but I didn’t want to get up. I wanted to stay on my knees. If I got up, I don’t think I’d be able to hold it together.

“Do you love me?” I followed up.  
“Yes.” he spoke this time.

I nodded again. I knew he was telling the truth and I believed him. I knew he loved me but even that wasn’t enough to make me feel better. Nothing could make me feel better. Pain and betrayal this immense had no immediate remedy. But I kept my composure and tried to muster every ounce of strength left in me. I wasn’t about to join him in his little psychotic episode.

“Can you explain that?” I said, after clearing my throat. My head was starting to throb.  
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I didn’t know either until I found out she was getting married. It just…resurfaced. It came out and I couldn’t contain it. I’m sorry.” he paused to roughly run his hand through his hair. He struggled to get the right words out. “But…I really do love you. What I feel for you is real you have to believe me.”

I have heard enough. I stood up, despite my numb legs. I towered over him and he looked up at me with desperate eyes. He knew I was done. He knew this was goodbye. He hugged my waist and locked me tight in his arms.

“I’m so sorry. Please, please. Forgive me. Don’t leave. I won’t be able to take it.” his cries were muffled by my shirt.

He had the gall to ask me to stay. I started to feel anger now. Did he think I was dumb enough to accept that he loves another woman? That I was going to just help him carry his baggage? I was furious. Tears fell down like waterfalls now. Thunder clapped outside. What a terrible day to break up and break someone’s heart.

“Let go.” I told him nonchalantly. It’s funny how many times I’ve told him that. On different occasions and instances. Maybe this was the last time I had to say it. And hopefully this time, he’d actually listen.

I cupped my hand over my mouth to prevent myself from sobbing. Just a little bit more, I told myself. He stood up and put his mouth on mine. He showered my lips with repetitive soft kisses the way he usually did when he wanted to make up. Whenever I was angry, all he had to do was sneak tiny kisses on my lips and everything would be alright. I shut my eyes to let my tears fall, so he could taste them. So he’d know how much pain he’s caused. His small kisses turned into hunger. He slipped in his tongue and I returned the favor. I slid both my hands under his shirt and up his chest. I could feel his heart racing against his ribcage. He ran his fingers through my damp hair, cradling and stroking my head as he bit my lips raw. He sighed into my mouth, and I couldn’t help but quiver. I kissed him like I’ve never kissed before; like I’ll never kiss him again. Then, I slipped my hands back out his shirt and pulled away from his lip lock. That was enough for a last kiss. I looked up at him with a sad smile.

“Goodbye.” I said, my tiny voice faltering and shaking.

I walked out the door as fast as I could. I ran past the boys, and didn’t bother looking back.

And I ran. I ran through the rain. I ran even as I felt a fever coming up. I just remember running.

I ran until I was gone.


	6. Chapter 6

The first two weeks after we broke up was a blur. Half the time I spent sleeping, the other half I spent looking for ways to fall asleep. I had resorted to pills, liquor, and Netflix. Some days, I’d take on all three of them together. Anything to keep me from breaking down, really. I had turned off my phone since God knows when. Last I heard he didn’t go to the wedding. That alone says a lot. On the third week, I started going out with friends, only to come home and crumble into the broken piece that I was. That’s when I decided to move out.

That place held too many memories. Each corner, every side of the wall had its own memory of him. I had rented a room with a friend of mine. It was her idea. I couldn’t possibly live all by myself while I was going through this difficult time. Within two months, I cleared out the entire flat and put his remaining stuff in a box. And when I say stuff I meant our Instax photos together, his shirts, his shaving kit, toothbrush, slippers, packs of unopened condoms and headphones. It always drove me nuts when he would leave his stuff lying around after having spent the night. I put them in a small box and left it at the doorstep. I couldn’t bring myself to return them to him nor throw them away. Not just yet. Maybe when the new tenants move in, they’ll see it and get rid of it for me.

A few days after I had moved out, I dropped by the neighborhood where my old place was to see if anyone new has moved in yet. Just as I was approaching my old building, I saw Joshua walking out. He almost staggered upon seeing me.

“Hey.” He said in English.  
“Josh. What are you doing here?” I asked.  
“Uhm. I was looking for you. They said you moved out but then here you are.”  
“I was just going to check on something. What’s up?”

I knew this was going to be about him. I wish I avoided this meeting but he was extremely nice and I couldn’t really send him away like that. Not after coming all the way here clearly from a schedule. His hair was all done and there was a trace of make-up on him. I invited him to that little tea place around the corner. Somehow I knew we would need a private, quiet place to talk. As soon as we sat down, he started opening up. I felt like he wanted this to be over and done with. I had the same sentiment. I had a sneaky feeling though that he was sent here to check up on me.

“I’m not the type to intrude on other people’s relationships but…we just feel like you guys should work things out.” he began, getting right down to business  
I pursed my lips. What was there to work out? He still loved someone else. He hasn’t gotten over his past. How exactly do we work that out?  
“I’m sorry Josh, I just don’t think there’s anything more I can do. I can’t just tell him ‘Hey, stop your feelings’ and everything will be alright. Do you understand?”  
He chuckled and shook his head. “I know. I guess I just took a shot, hoping I could convince you to take him back.”

I fiddled with my fingers momentarily. I cleared my throat before getting the courage I needed.  
“So how is he?” I dared to ask. I wasn’t even sure if I was ready to hear anything about him. But the question was clawing at me.  
“Terrible. He hates himself right now. He blames himself for everything. He didn’t mean to hurt you, you know. And he really does still love you. It’s just that…he needs his feelings and emotions sorted.”

Sorted. It sounded like his hang-up with his ex was just some document that needed to be put in the right folder. I faked a smile.

“I think you’re perfect for each other. Maybe this just isn’t the right time yet. He still needs a lot of healing. And once he’s gotten rid of his monsters, maybe then you two can patch things up and pick up where you left off.” he added.  
I watched the hot smoke billow from my cup. It was calming and soothing. “Maybe. But I don’t want to wait for him to come around. I have a life too.”  
“I understand.” he smiled reassuringly. I appreciated the fact that he was considerate of my feelings with the way he talked. He wasn’t pushy or persistent.

I drummed my fingers on the tablecloth, as he sipped on his tea. He could tell I had more questions, but it was completely up to me if I wanted to ask them. It was now or never.

“He really loves her, huh?” I blurted, thinking how long it has been since they broke up but even after all this time, he’d injure himself over her.  
He clasped his hands together and tilted his head, as if trying to recall something.  
“He adored her. She was his first love, you know? And first loves are a big deal. He believed for sure she wasn’t capable of leaving him, but she did. And so she was the first to break his heart. And I think that’s why she had this massive effect on him; she stomped not only his heart, but also his ego.”

I nodded. I really did understand. But it still didn’t change the fact that I was collateral damage. In a way, I was mad at myself for getting myself into this. I knew he had baggage and yet I risked it anyway. I brought this upon myself.

“She’s happily married. It’s just a matter of time until he finally gets over her. And you. He’s having a double heartbreak I don’t know how he does it.” he went on, as if it’s something that would make me feel better.  
“Well I wish him the best.”  
“You look like you’re doing okay.”  
“I am. Or at least I try to be.”  
He looked at his watch and told me he had to be someplace else and I thanked him for coming over all the way here.

“Before I go, he wanted me to give you this.” He reached for a letter from his back pocket. It was neatly folded into a tiny square  
I took it from his hand, realizing that this was his plan all along. To send Joshua here to check up on me and give me this letter.  
“He wanted to do it the old school way. He’s a hopeless romantic like that.” Joshua laughed, before waving goodbye and running to the van waiting for him.

I stared at the folded square. There was a reason why I never opened his text messages after I left him. I didn’t want to hear from him. I was angry at him but at the same time I didn’t want to miss him any more than I already did. When I read his words, I hear his voice in my head and all I’ve been doing these past months was to get rid of that. But here it was. He resorted to the old school way to reach out to me. With shaking hands, I unfolded the letter.

"Before anything else, I want you to know that you have every right to hate me. This isn’t a letter to convince you to come back. I’m writing this because I truly am sorry. For everything, and for absolutely nothing. I say for everything, because it had to come to this. I caused you pain when I should’ve dealt this by myself. I say for nothing because I’m not sorry that I chose to be with you. Because given the chance, I wouldn’t change a thing. I still want to end up with you. Everything I’ve said while I was with you are all true. I really do mean it when I say I love you. But I am such a mess right now. And it would be selfish of me to ask you to stay with me and understand me while I am messed up and confused. I don’t want to be lying in bed with you and out of nowhere she would randomly appear in my thoughts. That would be unfair to you. I wouldn’t want you to go through that.  
I hope you know you changed my life. You shed new light on things I couldn’t or refuse to see before. Unknowingly, you pieced me together and made me into a man I never imagined I’d be. I am always thankful for that. But I have to do the rest of the fixing by myself; something only I can do without hurting anyone. I still hate myself that I hurt you like this. I miss you and I still think about you everyday. I send out my thoughts to you at night, hoping that magically, you would receive them. I know it’s a bit childish but it’s the only way I can make myself feel better about not having you by my side.   
You’re a big part of me now and if the cosmos allows it, I’d want us to find ourselves in each other’s arms again in the future. When we’ve both healed from all of this, I wish we’d end up at the same place at the same time and continue what we had. But that’s just me being too ambitious. Frankly, the mere thought of you finding someone new kills me. You know how jealous I am. However, I want you to be happy. I want you to move on from the pain I caused. And if being with someone new helps with that, then I’m happy. If all else fails, if our worlds never collide again, then I’ll just have this - our memories - to fall back on.  
Here’s to hoping I’ll see you soon.  
I love you, noona."

I folded the letter back to its original form. He was hoping for second chances in the long run. I don’t know how long our healing would take. By then I’ll probably find someone else, and he will too. There’s just no telling what will become of us. But one thing’s for certain: I did not hope to see him soon.

Approximately 1 year later, I was at a bachelorette party of a friend. We were at the hottest club in Hongdae and things were going wild and south. Imagine a horde of drunk girls packed in a small club and you got yourself a hot spot for scandalous shenanigans. I had just probably finished an entire bottle of tequila by myself. Everyone was holding their own bottle at this point. My friends were getting married one by one and I was still dating back and forth. No big deal. I was genuinely happy and satisfied with my life. As soon as the male strippers finished their little show, I stepped outside for some fresh air. The amount of smoke inside made my head spin ever more. I doubled over and threw up on the sidewalk. I was getting too old for this, I thought. After hurling all the contents of my stomach, I tried to get back up. But I was still too woozy and my legs too wobbly to stand. I instantly regretted all those tequila shots I did by myself.

Just then, as if the universe planned this entire night all along, I felt a warm hand on my arm. “You okay?”

His voice was melting honey.


End file.
